Lying is a Game
by Mjgoose
Summary: There comes a time where you have to lie to save yourself or someone else. Molly Hooper is faced with this decision and she isn't sure which is better for her. But sometimes, lying is just a game you have to win. Trigger Warnings: Abusive relationship and possible non consensual sex
1. Chapter 1

_This is my first attempt at a fan fiction in a really long time so do stay with me. It's going to be a rough few chapters so trigger warning of abusive relationship and possible non consensual sex. Also, I'm hoping to update at least a few times a week, so be prepared._

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Molly's hands were trembling as she meticulously looked at every part of the body staring blankly at her. The man had been dead for nearly three days and the cause of death was undetermined. Since, Sherlock was 'back from the dead' as many would call it, she could easily call him up and ask if he could look at a body for her. But she didn't want to do that. She couldn't do that. She was hiding a secret, and she knew with time Sherlock would eventually figure it out, just like he figured out John's middle name, or what 'The Woman's' password was. But this secret was something she really didn't want to share.

Her mind drifted off as she put her bloody scalpel down and carefully took off her latex gloves and put her head in her hands. She felt so ashamed. Keeping a secret from a man who could know anything about you in the blink of an eye. The images from the first night a few months ago quickly jumped into her head as she sat down on a lab chair and tried to steady her breathing.

_"T-Tom, I um, I made you a nice dinner. Would you please sit down and eat? Molly asked hesitantly as she gestured down to the spaghetti and meatball dinner with red wine she had made for them. It was sentiment really, on their first dat they had this exact dinner, and now on their one year anniversary she wanted to recreate it._

_"Molly, I'm not hungry," He groaned solemnly. _

_Molly gave a slight sigh as she hesitantly went over to the couch he was sitting on and kneeled before him. She grabbed one of his hands in both of hers. "Please Tom? For me? It's our anniversary and I know you are stressed about your job and I-"_

_Molly was abruptly stopped mid sentence when a tremendous force crossed her cheek. She soon found herself on the ground cupping her cheek and crying out in pain._

_"I don't want to talk about it, Molly!" He nearly spat at her as she lay whimpering in pain._

This was the first act of violence Molly had encountered. She ended up staring at the ring on her left hand and wondered how she had gotten into this mess.

_"Molly, will you marry me?" Tom was on one knee with the velvet ring box in his hand as he flashed a ring to Molly that she had no idea he could afford. _

_Part of her wanted to kiss him and hug in but the other part of her wanted to slap him across the face. _

_Surely, he must have seen the amazement on her face and the hesitation, almost as if he was speaking into her mind she heard 'You better say yes you or else you won't see the light of day.'_

_Molly teary eyed- not from the sentiment, but from what she feared would happen next as she slowly formed her lips into a silent 'Yes'. _

_Tom embraced her into a hug and pulled her off of the ground, his hands pushing hard into her back as she winced, but he didn't make an effort to let go. _

_"Tom," Molly breathed out, feeling the oxygen leaving her lungs from how tight he was holding her._

_"I'm just happy we will be spending the rest of our lives together," he muttered into her ear._

Molly must have closed her eyes for more than a few minutes before she felt hands on her shoulder shaking her. Before she knew what she was doing she immediately jumped and took a few steps back.

"H-Hey, I'm sorry." John's hands raised in surrender as he looked up and down at Molly, she looked like a mess, her hair was greasy and she looked constantly on edge. John raised an eyebrow at Molly, hoping she could explain herself.

"S-Sorry," Molly muttered as she rubbed her neck, remembering there was some bruises Tom had left and she didn't want anyone to see them.

"Molly, you need to go home. You are stressed, I know it's around the holiday time and you have more bodies than you usually do, but please. For your well being go home. You have a wedding to plan."

Those words stung. The fact that Molly was going to marry Tom in less than three months scared her. She didn't want to marry a face that had been in constant nightmares, but she had to. Or else she'd probably end up being the one autopsied and not doing the autopsy.

"N-No, it's fine." Molly waved off John and then quickly plastered a smile to her face. She had to act like nothing was wrong, like she always did. "Sorry, I um, just slacking. Toby kept me up all night and I didn't get much sleep." She was surprised that Tom had gotten her to be such a good liar.

John quickly dismissed it as he read out a text that Sherlock sent him for things to pick up at the morgue for another experiment. "Sherlock needs a dozen fingers. Four from smokers, four from recreational marijuana users, and four who died of natural causes and leave out the thumbs. I don't know what the hell he is using them for but he needed them asap."

Molly gave a slight nod at the directions and went over to the fridge as she dug out what John had told her to get. As she dug out the various fingers and put them in a bag she quickly noticed that John was right beside her and she gave a small jump. "H-Here you go." Molly muttered as she quickly shoved the fingers into his hands.

Before she could run anywhere else a hand grabbed her shoulder and she jumped.

"Molly, is there something wrong?" Molly forced herself to look into John's eyes as she heard those words. How was she supposed to respond? _Yes, John. The guy that I am supposed to marry is hurting me and I can't escape it. _

"No." She said more bravely then she thought. "Just stress."

The hands quickly let go of her shoulders and she took in a steady breath. "Okay, Molly. If you need anything just now Sherlock and I are here for you." There was a reassuring smile and soon John was out of the morgue.

Molly's hands were shaking again as she closed the fridge and cleared everything up. She rolled the body into the fridge and finished up her paperwork. Once she finished everything she was supposed to do for the day her mind drifted to back with her encounter with John and she frowned.

There comes a time where you have two choices. 1. Lie to save yourself or 2. Lie to save someone else. This is one of those times where the latter was the best option for her.

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_Alright! So that's it! I hope you guys enjoyed it be sure to tell me what you think! Also I don't have anyone editing it so there may be some honest mistakes which I am really sorry for because I am only human. Thank you guys so much! I should be updating later in this week depending on how busy I am._


	2. Chapter 2

_I'm back again! Thank you for all of the reviews and for all of the nice words. It really is difficult reading this but I'm glad all of you are giving it a shot. Here is chapter two and it is a little more violent than the first chapter. Also, trigger warning for non consensual sex. _

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Molly's flat wasn't more than a kilometer away from St. Bart's and since it wasn't raining, she thought it would be the best day to walk and think about her life. How it had taken a sudden spin when Sherlock had come up to her and asked her to help him with faking his death. She didn't do much, really. She provided him a place to stay and some money when he needed it but other than that, nothing.

A few months after Sherlock had faked his death she met Tom. The sweet Tom who worked as a journalist and would always write her sweet little stories when she was feeling bad. Then, it seemed like his stories took a sudden turn.

_"Tom?" Molly asked as she put down his latest story, even though he was a journalist he really did love creative writing. "I… I'm not quite sure I understand." _

_"What do you mean?" His sharp words sent shivers down her spine._

_Molly put down the pile of papers and frowned. "I uh, I mean. I love it and everything but do you really think that having the main character commit suicide while it is in first person is really the best idea? Then while the main character is dying you describe in detail what he is going through?"_

_Tom stood up from their couch (yes _**_their_**_couch. He had moved in about three weeks ago, without even warning her). He grabbed the papers right out of her hands and glanced through them. "So?" He simply responded. _

_"So um…" Molly wanted to stand up for herself but she soon felt his hands around her neck, cutting off oxygen to her brain, her eyes were rolling back in her head. But before she could black out she suddenly felt the warmth of oxygen in her lungs._

_"You're so weak." He spat as he strikes her across the cheek._

_"T-Tom, I'm sorry." She apologizes as she put her head between her knees, feeling the oxygen finally return fully._

_"Don't you say that. You know you aren't." Before she could react to what he was saying he grabbed a bit of her long hair and pulled her head up to face him. _

_"Look at me when I'm talking to you."_

_"Y-Yes, I-I'm sorry." Molly was biting back tears as she knew that his hand would be in contact with her face in seconds. _

_But something else happened. He kissed her. A rough kiss, not something she was used to. She wanted to react, but she wasn't sure how and just sat there as he moved his hands down to her hip and tugged on her cardigan._

Molly shuddered just at the thought of that night. It was one of the nights she wanted to forget, he had forced himself onto her and she couldn't move, or else his hands would move to her neck again and each time would be a longer amount of time that she couldn't breathe.

As Molly rounded the corner to her flat she gave a heavy sigh. Did she really want to go into that flat? He was probably already there, waiting for her. Maybe today will be a better day, sometimes he had those days where he would make dinner and they would kiss and watch telly in peace.

Molly dug the keys out of her purse and opened the door to her flat and gave a heavy sigh. There was no one there, except for Toby who was lounging on the top of the couch fast asleep.

"Hey there, Toby." Molly cooed as she scratched the top of his head and he responded with loud purring. Then it finally hit her. She was alone. Alone for once. Molly looked around the flat to make sure she was truly alone. It's strange, being alone in a morgue all day and then coming home and enjoying the silence, but the truth. Tom was gone, something that never happened.

As she breathed in the silence she laid down on the couch and closed her eyes for a second. _What should I do? Read a book? Sleep? Make supper? _Different ideas ran through her head as she breathed in the silence.

Molly got up from the couch and went over to her bedroom and got some pajamas. She didn't really care what they looked like, she didn't care what he thought when he got home, he would just make fun of her appearance no matter what she looked like if he was in a bad mood.

Once the tub was full at a warm temperature she slowly stripped off each piece of clothing, her body was shivering and the moment her body entered the tub she could feel her whole body relax. Her eyes glanced around her body. Noticing all the marks Tom had put on her. There were evident hand marks on her wrist and waist and various bruises tainted on her body. She held her breathe and dipped her head underwater and let her long hair flow however it wanted.

When her head surfaced she breathed in and out steadily, enjoying the happiness while she could. She could hear her phone buzz in the distance but she quickly ignored it, enjoying the silence, the independence, anything she could enjoy for the moment being.

After awhile in the tub, she realized she had been in it long enough, she looked down at her fingers and noticed how prune like they looked. Molly smiled as she gently lifted herself from the tub and drained the tub as she wrapped a towel around her torso, and another towel in her hair.

As her phone buzzed once again Molly reached to grab it as it lay on the counter. "Hello?" Molly asked, not looking at the name before she answered the phone.

"Molly! Where have you been?" The rushed and what was that in his voice? Worry? That was odd for Tom.

"I'm in the bathroom," she answered simply. "Wh-" Before she could finish a word the door to the bathroom slammed open.

"Molly!" Tom nearly yelled as he entered the bathroom wearing a nice white shirt with a blue cardigan and some khakis. "Why didn't you answer my calls?" His voice was full of worry which surprised her and she took a small step back.

"I um… I was just taking a bath, I didn't hear my phone ringing."

"Well, I got a surprise for you! But first!" Before Molly could force a word out he grabbed her chin in the most gentle way as if she was China and laid a soft kiss on her lips. "Clean up, sweetie. I love you."

And with that, she was alone in the bathroom again. Molly's heart started pounding. What was this surprise? As she gently got dressed in her over sized t-shirt and pajamas. She quietly made her way into the living room and noticed Tom pacing the room. "Hey," she nearly whispered and all his attention went to her.

"Hey!" He exclaimed with his hands behind his back as he ran towards her and planted a kiss on her cheek. "Why are you wearing that?" He nearly growled as he looked over her atrocious outfit.

"Because I'm just wearing it to bed?" Molly was offended by that question and she raised an eyebrow and he quickly dismissed it and he drew a long velvet box from his back.

"I bought something for you," he smiled as he flicked it opened and inside was a long silver chain with a ruby in the middle of it. "I put your birthstone on it, I thought you might like it."

Molly forced a smile on her face as she looked up at him. "Tom, I really love this, it is beautiful, really." Should she mention it? They'd been dating for over a year, he should know when her birthday was by now. "T-Tom," she warned, not quite sure how she was going to handle this. "I love it, I do. But my birthday is in March… Which is aquamarine. Ruby is June, I think?"

"July." He corrected before his face hardened and his lips turned into a thin line as he looked straight into her eyes. His eyes were cold, she could tell where this was going t end.

"It's beautiful, Tom. I honestly love it." Molly gently grabbed the velvet box from his hands and took the necklace out of it. "W-Would you mind, um putting it on me?" Molly asked as she handed the necklace over to Tom and she turned around and lifted her damp hair up so he could fit the necklace around her neck.

She could feel his fingers around her neck and she drew in a light breath, hoping he wouldn't do anything. Soon, she felt the necklace laying against her chest and she gave a breath of relief. _Maybe he's in a good mood tonight_ she thought to herself. But she spoke to soon as the necklace soon came up to her neck in a swift movement and the small diamonds on the necklace pierced the skin on her neck. "T-Tom?" She squeaked, but as soon as she said anything, the diamonds dug deeper into her skin.

"Don't speak." He commanded, his words cold and not caring like they were a few minutes ago. "Do you realize how much money I spent on this? I got this for _you._" His words hissed in her ear.

"I-I'll wear it, Tom…" She trailed off but soon felt the diamonds piercing her skin, something was trickling down her neck. Blood? Were the diamonds really that deep in her skin? Was she so immune that she didn't notice it?

"Good." He let go and let the necklace dangle on her chest as he latched it into a more comfortable place. Molly swiped her neck and looked down at her hand and noticed the blood. "You don't know how much I care about you, Molly Hooper." Tom mumbled against her skin as he planted simple kisses against her.

Molly slowly turned herself around to face him. "Thank you, I really like it." Molly took a few steps away, she could tell what he was trying to do. He was trying to get in bed with her, and she really wasn't in the mood right now.

"Come on, Molly." He cooed as he grabbed her hips tightly, bringing her closer to him. Molly could feel his warm lips on hers and she gently pushed him away.

"Tom, not tonight," Molly said against his lips, gently putting a hand on his chest and pushing him away.

"Molly Hooper, I want you right now." Tom had taken advantage while her mouth was open to stick his tongue in it. She attempted to pull away, but his grip was too tight.

"Tom-"

"Molly Hooper!" He yelled before she could finish her thought. He pulled away, his hands still on her hip, but his face farther away. "Go sit on the couch. I have another surprise."

"Another surprise?" She questioned as he let go of her hip and she obliged to his orders. Sitting properly on the edge of the couch, wondering what he had in store this time. Tom disappeared into the kitchen for a little while. Her mind wandered. What did he have planned now?

A few anticipated moments later Tom returned into the living room with two glasses of red wine. "It's your favorite, isn't it?" He asked as he handed her one. Molly gave a small nod as she took a sip of her wine.

"Why are we drinking so late?" Molly asked as she took another sip of her drink. She only drank on occasions, but it seemed like tonight was a good time to drink after a long day at work.

"You know me, always drinking." Tom said as he tapped his glass lightly on the top of Molly's.

Molly took a large sip of the wine. What was up with her tonight? Why was she drinking? It was a usual weekday and she shouldn't be drinking tonight, but she felt it appropriate tonight.

Before Molly knew it her drink was gone. She could feel the alcohol taking a toll on her. It didn't take much to get her drunk, but usually it took her more than a few drinks to get her properly drunk.

Molly slowly stood up from where she was sitting and could feel her eyes fighting to stay open. "I-I'm going to bed… I'm tired." Molly lazily dropped her glass and saw it shatter it to the ground before she felt her body fall back.

"No, Molly. I'll carry you." She felt hands on her back before being lifted up into unconsciousness.

...

When Molly woke up she stretched and found out her whole body was stiff, she lazily looked around her room and her eyes widened in worry. Clothes were all over her room, there were trousers, from the far corner of her room she saw something black, she narrowed her eyes, hoping that would make her see farther. Was that? Was that her bra? Molly looked down at herself.

Everything was gone. Her dignity, her clothes, everything she cared about was gone. Molly could feel a tear in her eye as she looked around the bed. He was gone, that's all she cared about. "T-Tom?" Molly croaked, but there was no return.

Molly bit her lip, trying her hardest not to cry. She knew what he had done to her but she didn't want to admit it. But this was the last straw, she couldn't go on with this any longer, she needed to tell someone. Anyone. One name came into her mind as she looked for her phone, when she suddenly remember she had left it in the bathroom when Tom had called her.

If she was going to call someone she needed clothing, she picked up the over sized t-shirt and her pajama pants that were thrown on the floor, it hurt to just put those loose clothes over her body. As Molly gingerly made her way to the bathroom she sat on the cool floor and locked the bathroom door, just for safety.

Molly grabbed her phone from the counter and called the number she had memorized.

There comes a time where you have to lie to save yourself or someone else. But this one time, she had to tell the truth, for both herself and the person she cared about.

She heard the other line pick up and she gave a heavy breath. "Sh-Sherlock."

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_This chapter wasn't supposed to turn out this long, but thank you for reading. This chapter was really personal to me and it took me longer than I thought it was going to take me to write it because I didn't necessarily want to write it but I felt like I had to. Anyway. That was that, the next chapter should be up in a few days and it should start getting happier. Thank you so much and I'll see you then._


	3. Chapter 3

_Well this is more of a happy chapter. Well not necessarily happy, but happier than last chapter. Hope y'all enjoy and favorite and comment and whatever you do._

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"Sh-Sherlock?" The voice on the other line stammered. Sherlock raised an eyebrow, in concern.

"Molly? Is that you?" Sherlock asked. "Why are you calling me this late at night? It is 11 o'clock, are you having trouble with reports?"

There was silence for a few seconds before she spoke again. "I-I'm sorry." It was a quiet tone she spoke with, almost gentle it seemed.

"Why are you sorry?" He asked, actual concern in his voice as he clutched the phone closer to his ear.

"F-For calling so late, I h-had no idea…" Her voice trailed off, there was something she wanted to tell him, he could tell. But he wasn't quite sure what she was hiding.

"What are you hiding from me, Molly?" The question stayed in the air, and he could feel the tension, he imagined her mouth opening and closing a few times to try and determine how to phrase it.

"T-Tom," she said after a few seconds of silence. "I uh, Sherlock. I've been lying to you for a long time…" Why was she saying this? Was he going to mad? A thousand different ideas ran through her head as she figured out the right way to word this. "I-I l-love Tom, I-I really do. B-But he hurts me."

Sherlock listened to her words carefully as he quickly picked up his coat and headed out of the car and hailed a taxi. "Molly, keep talking. I'm guessing you're at your flat, am I right? Also, he probably left for the night, seeing how you wouldn't call if he was around. Stay on the phone with me, I am sending a quick text to John to meet me at Baker Street, okay?" He took his ear away from the phone and quickly sent a text to John simply saying 'Baker street, immediately. SH'

Once Sherlock found a cab he nearly barked the address and brought the phone to his ear. "Molly, are you still there?" He asked as he listened intently on the phone, needing something. A sound, her cat meowing, anything to tell him that she was still there.

"Oh my god, Sherlock!" Molly nearly cried into the phone.

"What? What? What is going on, Molly?" His hands clutched onto his phone, trying to calm himself.

"I didn't know… I thought I was drunk… I thought," Sherlock's heart started beating faster. What had he done to his little pathologist? The pathologist that was so sweet that couldn't hurt a fly. "It was Rohypnol. He spiked my drink because I didn't want to have sex with him."

Sherlock could feel his heart hit the floor. He couldn't force a word out, this was one of those times Sherlock Holmes was literally at a loss of words. "Molly, I'm coming. Don't move, where exactly are you in your flat?"

"I-I'm in the bathroom," he could hear the tears dripping down her cheek as she tried to stay strong. "Everything is locked, the front door, th-the bathroom door."

Once the cab rounded the corner to her flat Sherlock barked at the cabbie to stay where he was and not move until he came out again. "Molly, I'm at your flat and I'm going to hang up so don't be surprised." Before she could protest the other line was dead.

Molly was on the cold bathroom floor, waiting for Sherlock to come through to the rescue, but at the same time, she was scared. Scared for his reaction. Molly heard the front door and she jumped and put her knees up to her chest and wrapped her hands around them, almost protecting herself from Sherlock, even though she knew he wouldn't hurt her she couldn't help but stay cautious.

"Molly?" She heard a voice call gently.

"I-I'm in here," Moly croaked, and heard the door to the bathroom open slightly. Standing in the door was the tall man with the curls that she loved more than she ever loved Tom.

"Are you alright?" Sherlock carefully made his way over to her and leaned down in front of her, making sure there was a fair amount of distance between them.

Molly looked down at the small amount of space between them and crawled a little back, even though he wouldn't hurt her Molly couldn't be too careful.

Sherlock must have noticed the fidgeting and he raised his hands in the air as if warning her that he wouldn't hurt her. "Molly, I have no intention of hurting you. I just want you to know that."

Molly's eyes were to the ground as she gave a small nod. "Sh-Sherlock, I-I'm sorry." She admitted. What was she sorry about? Sorry that it was the middle of the night and she needed her? Sorry that she was stupid for loving Tom?

"Don't say that, Molly. You did nothing wrong." Very slowly Sherlock stood up from the ground and stretched an arm out for Molly. "I'm going to take you back to Baker Street and we are going to get through this together."

Molly looked at his hand for a minute before slowly taking it and pulling herself up. What was she doing? Leaving her fiancé? Oh god, what was he going to do when he got home and she wasn't here? "I-I'm scared," Molly admitted as she came face to face with Sherlock, he had a blank expression on his face, he was probably hiding how pissed off he was.

"Sh, it's okay. I'm here." Sherlock's eyes glanced over her, and noted how broken _his_ Molly was. _His _pathologist. Who would hurt her this bad where she couldn't even stand without leaning on a counter. "There is a cab out front. Is it okay if I put a hand around you?" He warned, he didn't want to scare her more.

"Y-Yeah." Was Sherlock Holmes actually going to put an arm around her? Something she had always wished for? But not necessarily the circumstances she wanted them under. As they both exited the bathroom Sherlock loosely put his arm around her waist, trying to keep her standing up. Before they could even make it out of Molly's flat, Sherlock could feel Molly pressing her body on his for support.

"Do you want me to pick you up, Molly?" Sherlock asked and his question was returned with a small hum. "You must be tired," He smiled as put his other hand under her knees and carefully pulled her up to him.

"Rough night." She simply stated as she cuddled into his chest. God, this was nice. Tom never cuddled, and she needed the comfort right now.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked as he carefully walked down the steps and into the cabbie, carefully placing Molly in it first before climbing in after her. He noticed how Molly quickly made sure there was room between them, and he didn't care, he didn't want to intrude and do something that made her uncomfortable.

"I… I'm sorry." Molly was looking out of the window and she could tell Sherlock was keeping a protective eye on her.

"What are you sorry for?" He pressed, as he tried to deduce all the injuries that were under her baggy clothing. Surely it had to be something that caused intense pain, or else she would have worn just regular clothing.

"L-Look at the time, Sh-Sherlock. It's almost midnight on a Wednesday and…" What was she sorry for? Hiding this? Having an insane boyfriend who took out his anger on her? She really wasn't quite sure.

Sherlock listened to her drone on for the duration of the ride, every once in awhile she would say 'Sorry' and Sherlock would quickly dismiss it saying she didn't need to be sorry. As they slowly came up to a stop on Baker Street Sherlock quickly paid the cabbie and opened the door for Molly and slowly carried her up to 221B.

As he opened the door to 221B he found John pacing the room. "Give me a second," he whispered as he went straight into his room and softly placed Molly on his bed. "Molly, go to sleep, I'll be in the other room." Sherlock unfolded a blanket that was sitting on the edge of his bed and loosely wrapped it around her.

She looked so vulnerable asleep in his bed. Sherlock looked down at his hands, how could someone punch her over and over and over again? How could someone hit her when she could barely stand up for herself? Sherlock could feel his hands shaking in anger and he quietly made his way out of his room, leaving the door open a crack, in case she woke up and wanted to talk.

Sherlock carefully made his way into the living room, his head down as he plopped down on the couch, not caring what John was thinking. After a few more minutes of silence John cleared his throat and Sherlock looked up at him.

"So, Molly Hooper?" John questioned as he sat down next to his best friend.

"John," Sherlock's voice cracked as he kept his head down, not wanting John to see him breaking. "He hurt her." Abruptly Sherlock stood up from the couch and started pacing.

"Who did? And what do you mean they hurt her?" John questioned, Sherlock never gave him enough information and he always had to ask more than he wanted to.

"Her stupid fiancé." Sherlock mumbled as he ran his hand through his hair. What was he going to do? "God damnit, he hurt her, John. She's broken. She's not the smiling pathologist that I came to see everyday. I knew something was wrong. I just knew it, but I thought it was stress?" _I was wrong. I was wrong. Wrong! _Those words rang through Sherlock's head, the one time that he was wrong it had to be the most important thing that he had to deal with.

John slowly made his way off of the couch and next to Sherlock, putting his hands on his shoulders and making him look down to him. "Sherlock, I knew something was wrong too. She said it was just Toby and the stress of the wedding. We were both wrong. But I'm going to tell you something, you need to stay calm for her. How bad are her injuries, do you know?"

"Bruises all over, I don't know. I didn't really get to see much, she's wearing baggy clothing and I don't want to press it."

John looked over at the closed door and lowered his voice slightly. "Can you remember anything? Any bruises you saw or anything?" John pressed, he hated how he was asking Sherlock this, but he needed to know if there was any serious injuries that he needed to tend.

"Bruises were the normal color, she was very finicky I think there were more injuries than she was letting on…" Something hit him and he hung his head. "Rohypnol. He put Rohypnol in her drink when she wouldn't sleep with him." Sherlock tore away from John's and paced again. "I'm going to kill him," he muttered his voice low and deadly.

"Sherlock," John stepped in front of him before he could go anywhere. "Molly is here, she is safe. When she wakes up she's going to need you. You need to stay here when she wakes up and we'll go from there."

Sherlock forced himself to look over at his bedroom door and then sat on the couch, his fingers making a steeple under his chin as he thought. "Now we wait."


	4. Chapter 4

_Sorry this chapter took me so long. I had a thousand different ideas for this chapter so here ya go._

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Sherlock was thinking of different ways to torture this bastard when all of a sudden a deafening scream came from his room. Before he could even think of it, he jumped off of the couch and ran into his room. There he saw Molly tossing and turning under the blanket and another deafening scream came as he carefully sat on the edge of the bed.

"Molly," he whispered not wanting to scare her as he very gently placed a hand on her shoulder. Under his touch he could feel her flinching and he immediately took his hand away. "Molly, wake up." Sherlock urged as he stayed where he was, not quite sure what he was supposed to do. He didn't want to scare her, so he tried to take a stance, but every time he called her name another scream came out. "Molly." Sherlock took a deep breath before planting a soft kiss on her forehead.

With that her eyes flashed open and she backed up slightly, her head hitting the wall. "Wh-What?" She looked around the room, not quite sure where she was or how she got here. "Sh-Sherlock?"

Sherlock's hands went up in surrender, warning her that no matter what he wasn't going to lay a finger on her unless she wanted. "Are you hungry, Molly? John is making breakfast."

Molly's eyes looked at every corner of the room and then down to where she was laying. "Wh-Where am I?"

Sherlock sighed as he got off of the bed and outstretched his arm to help her up. "You're at Baker Street. John is here too and he's going to look over your injuries. We took you away from him, Molly."

Molly could feel her chin quiver as she quickly wrapped her arms around Sherlock's neck. "Thank you."

Sherlock stiffened under her touch. He desperately wanted to wrap his arms around her and pull her close and tell her that everything was okay, but he didn't want to scare her and he didn't want to even touch her without warning. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Molly leaned closer into Sherlock and shook her head. There was a few minutes of silence as Molly's tears started falling down onto Sherlock's clothing, but it didn't seem like he cared. Molly very slowly leaned away from Sherlock and gave a small smile. "Is uh, is that offer for breakfast still open?"

Sherlock huffed as he outstretched his arm again and this time Molly took it. Very carefully they made there way to kitchen. Sherlock, having his arm out and Molly gripping onto it for dear life.

Once they got into the kitchen Sherlock pulled a chair out for Molly and she gratefully took it. "H-How long was I asleep?" Molly asked as John brought a plate to her of pancakes and a few pieces of bacon.

Both men were silent for a minute as they exchanged a look and John took a sip of his coffee. "Eleven hours and thirty two minutes." Sherlock said promptly as he took a sip of his coffee.

Molly coughed on a piece of bacon that was only partly in her mouth. "Y-You let me sleep that long?"

"Molly, you needed the sleep." John insisted as he sat down next to her, and started flipping through the paper.

"You could have woken me up I-"

"Molly, you need the sleep," Sherlock interrupted before she could finish her thought. "We are not going to fight about this. John is a doctor and he said you needed the sleep."

Molly looked down at her pancakes and started poking them with her fork, not necessarily feeling that hungry anymore. She liked the fact that they were taking care of her but they were kind of acting like she was a child. "I'm not hungry." Molly simply stated as she pushed the food away from her and exited the kitchen. Where is she supposed to go? They probably won't let her leave the flat. Maybe just escape into the bedroom? No. Molly decided on laying down on the couch and pretending to be asleep.

Not long after she had settled herself John came out of the kitchen. "Molly," he warned as he kneeled down next to her. "We don't want to make you upset. We know you have gone through something very traumatic and we want to help you in every way possible."

"I-It's not that bad, really. We just get in a few fights and…" she couldn't finish the sentence but was the truth. Tom would start a fight with anything he could. If she picked something up wrong he would hurt her.

"Listen." John said as he grabbed one of her hands in both of his. "These next few days are going to be very hard for you, but I promise after that it should be fine. Okay?"

"Oh-Okay." She could handle that. A few days couldn't be that bad, right?

"If it is okay with you is it okay if I check over your injuries?" Molly gave a small nod, and just as she did she saw Sherlock walk out of the kitchen with his coffee in hand looking over protectively. "But um, is it okay if it's just you and me John?" Molly asked, looking at Sherlock the entire time, not quite sure how he would take it.

John looked over to Sherlock, his eyes wide open. Sherlock was shocked by the question there was no doubt. Why did she want to do it in private? "Yeah, of course Molly."

As Molly carefully got off the couch, Sherlock took a protective step forward. He wanted to help her get up, he wanted to make sure everything was okay. But did Molly not trust him? No, it wasn't that. Did she just not want to see the look of horror and utter disgust when she showed John all the marks that Tom had made her go through? Most likely.

As they disappeared into Sherlock's bedroom he was quickly lost into thought. How could he have not noticed the marks and how finicky she was lately? How could he have not noticed how Tom was so protective of her?

Another thought struck Sherlock as he closed his eyes and went into his mind palace. There had been something he'd noticed too. She had lost a lot of weight. Sherlock thought it was just for the wedding. But then he remembered how she had barely ate any food that John had cooked her just twenty minutes ago.

This Tom had hurt Molly. Sherlock knew she could come back from this, she had to, this was Molly. The sweet Pathologist who did not deserve to be in this sort of danger.

...

It seemed like time was not in her favor. Each second in this bedroom seemed to go by longer than the last. For the past hour and a half John had searched nearly every part of her body and asking in detail 'Now where did this one come from?'. She hated this, hated the interrogating.

"Okay Molly, we should be done." John said as he took the latex gloves off of his hands. He had started with the obvious poke marks caused by the necklace on her neck and ended with the bruises on her ribs and hips.

Molly sat up and looked down at her hands, fiddling with them slightly. "Was this a good idea? Not letting Sherlock see?"

"I think it was a smart idea, knowing him he's already found out where the worse ones are." John sat down next to Molly and looked down at her hands. "He's going to want to see them at some point, but we can wait on that. What is important right now is that you get better."

"But I am fine, just a little broken I guess." the last few words came out in more of a whisper.

"You are not broken." John said as he put some hair behind her ear to see her face. "You were put into this mess, I just want you to know that you mean so much to both Sherlock and I. Don't think you are broken."

Molly just huffed out a sigh as she plopped her head down on the pillow, closing her eyes and then quickly opening them again. "John, there is something I need to tell you."

"You can tell me anything, Molly."

...

Nearly two hours later John came out from Sherlock's bedroom. Alone.

"Where is she? Is she okay? No serious damage right?" Sherlock hammered John with questions the moment he sat down in his chair.

"She's sleeping, Sherlock. But there is something I need to tell you." John motioned for Sherlock to sit down and he quickly obliged. "She has been through a rough time and you know that. She has gone through beating, drugging, rape, just about anything you can think of that no woman should ever go through."

"You don't think I know that, John?" Sherlock harshly hissed. "I also know that she has lost an unbelievable amount of weight in the past month which is why she didn't eat much this morning."

"Sherlock. Stop talking for three minutes will you?" John barked back and then looked over to Sherlock's bedroom, hoping he didn't wake Molly. "There is evidence that she was raped more than once. John took a deep breath before beginning again. "Her ribs are pretty badly bruised which is why she is having trouble walking, she said she had a concussion at one point and said that is why she was out of the morgue for a week. She talks about Tom very highly which makes me think that she has a mild case of Stockholm Syndrome and -"

"How do we get rid of it?" Sherlock asked John before he could finish his sentence.

"Well, Stockholm Syndrome is very hard to get rid of. What I was thinking-"

"Not the Stockholm Syndrome, John." Sherlock interrupted quickly and then looked over to his bedroom. "Tom."

* * *

_OH shit. Sherlock is pissed._

_Anyway. These next few weeks I won't be updating as much as I would like to because I have band camp, I want to update at least one more time before Thursday. Anyways. Enjoy! Comment and favorite and do all that jazz._


	5. Chapter 5

_As promised I updated before Thursday. This chapter was really fun to write and I hope you guys all enjoy it because I was smiling all the way through it. Anway, happy reading!_

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There was a door closing that woke Molly up. She looked around the room, slightly confused as to where she was. And then it hit her. She wasn't in the comfort of her room, with Tom by her side. She was in Sherlock's bed. Two years ago she would have done anything to be in this bed. Molly sighed as she slowly left the bedroom, knowing the moment she left the room she would be hammered with questions.

"Are you hungry?" John asked as Molly sat down on the couch and let her head roll onto a pillow.

"Not really," she admitted as she closed her eyes. Wishing she could just go back to bed.

"Molly, you need to eat. You've lost 23 pounds in a month. That isn't healthy." Molly's eyes slowly opened to see his face. She wanted to fight back, she desperately wanted to, but she knew it wasn't the best idea.

"I'm not hungry, Sherlock." Molly mumbled again as she laid down closed her eyes, wishing she could just not be hammered with questions. "How long was I asleep?" She asked, she remembered eating breakfast this morning and then talking to John for a little bit and then passing out.

"Almost five hours." Sherlock said promptly and Molly shook her head. That means she had been sleeping for most of the day. She had been sleeping for sixteen hours total and she wasn't quite sure how to handle that.

There was a few minutes of silence when Molly finally opened up her eyes and Sherlock was looking over at her with a protective glance and John reading the paper. "What is it?" Molly asked Sherlock.

Molly noticed John looking away from the paper for a second and giving a small head nod toward Sherlock. "Is it okay if we take you to Scotland Yard today?"

"What?" Police? They want to take her to the police? She couldn't do that. "I… I don't think I can do that, Sherlock."

"You're not going to fill out a report if you don't want to."

"You want me to fill out a police report?" Molly asked, slightly worried.

"Yes. Molly, do you realize that this man hurt you?" Sherlock's words were harsh and cold.

"He just got drunk and we had rough nights and -"

"Molly. Stop dismissing his behavior as being drunk. Even though he's drunk that does not give him the excuse to hurt you."

Molly took a deep breath before getting off of the couch. "I'm going back to bed," Molly stated as she disappeared back into the bedroom.

"Look what you did, Sherlock." John hissed again, looking at the bedroom door as if thinking he should go in and apologize for Sherlock's behavior.

"Don't you think she needs the truth?"

"No, Sherlock. She has been through absolute hell and the only way she can excuse that is to blame herself." John put down his paper and looked over at Sherlock, sometimes he wanted to slap his best friend across the face. "Like I said she's going to have a rough time getting rid of Stockholm but if you aren't a complete dickhead to her I'm pretty sure that it will go away quicker."

Sherlock grimaced at John's words. "John, I'm trying to put it into her head that Tom is the bad guy -"

"I don't give a royal fuck, Sherlock. She doesn't need to know that right now. Deep down inside she knows that he is the bad guy but she can't think straight right now." John took a deep breath trying to calm himself. "We know that Tom is the bad guy. But she doesn't, she thinks that she must have done something wrong for him to hit her. Right now isn't the best time. She is in shock, we just have to give it time."

"I don't have time, John! I want to find out where her bloody fiancé is so I can hurt him just as much as he hurt Molly."

"I have an idea."

. . .

"Molly, we are going to take you to Geoff Lestrade." Sherlock said as he rubbed her back softly. He had deduced that she hadn't really slept in those three hours and eighteen minutes that he didn't see her, she probably just stayed in that spot and cried. Ugh, he hated when people cried.

"Geoff?" Molly asked, facing away from him. She didn't really want to talk to Sherlock right now, even though she hadn't seen anyone in those three hours she kind of liked it, being alone and doing whatever. "You mean Greg?"

"Greg yeah." Sherlock took his hand away as he sighed and got up from his bed. "I had Mycroft go to your flat and get a few things since I know you are going to want fresh clothes." He motioned over to the suitcase by the door. "Come out when you are ready."

Once Molly heard the door close she looked over to where Sherlock mentioned. There was a black suitcase by the door. Her suitcase- Well, actually it was Tom's suitcase that they had bought for their Honeymoon. Molly took a deep breath as she got off of the bed and unzipped the suitcase.

. . .

"What are we supposed to do, John?" Sherlock asked as he paced the floor. Sherlock had talked to Molly nearly thirty minutes ago. Did it really take that long for her to get ready?

"Give her another minute." John said lazily as he lounged on the couch. Sherlock had been like this for the past fifteen minutes. "Why are you in such a fit anyway?"

"Because we need to get to the Yard." Sherlock looked over to his bedroom and sighed. "That's it, I'm going in there."

Just as Sherlock had said that, the door opened. Out came Molly in a light purple tank top and white capris. Sherlock had to give a double take, because the tank top didn't cover all of the bruises on her shoulder and he could tell by each bruise how much force Tom had exerted onto her skin, and the shorts only went down to mid thigh and he could see the edge of some bruises from the hem of her shorts. He could feel his heart drop, he didn't know the extent of the bruising and he was glad she was ready to show him at least a glimpse of it.

"Ready?" John asked, while Molly gave a small nod and looked over at Sherlock who she could tell was in shock that she was showing the bruising so early.

"Let's go," Sherlock said, keeping an eye on Molly noting how she walked and trying to deduce where he should really be careful of.

It was a ten minute cab ride to the Yard and the entire cab ride was quiet. Sherlock noticed Molly shiver a few times and offered her his jacket but she kept declining. He felt bad, having Molly exposing the bruises that tainted her skin. Most people would have thought she got in some sort of accident but he knew the truth and he hated it.

"We're here," Sherlock announced as the cabbie veered off onto the side of the street. John paid the cabbie as the others left the car, he noted how protective Sherlock was of Molly as he helped her out of the car and then asked for her hand as they walked into the station and John smiled to himself.

All three of them had entered Lestrade's office and he shut the door. There were only two chairs, so Molly and John took a seat and Sherlock stood by the door.

"So, Molly." Lestrade spoke, taking out a pen and a folder. "Sherlock has told me about your case and I just want your point of view."

Molly looked down to the floor, as she replayed what she had told to John. This time Sherlock was here to listen in, even though she couldn't see his face she could tell how disappointed he was.

When she was done retelling the stories from last night and Greg nodded, not wanting to interrupt her. "At some point we would like pictures, it doesn't have to be today if you don't want to but we want to do it before the bruises disappear."

Molly nodded, that means everyone in the Yard would have to see the damage at some point, it means she would have to leave the comfort of Baker Street again.

"Molly, you said he liked to get drunk. Do you remember where his favorite bar was?" Greg asked and Sherlock's ears perked. Maybe if he found out where Tom liked to drink he could find out where he is.

"Um, there is a pub not far from my flat it's called 'The Bull' I think."

Once Sherlock heard the name of the pub he quietly made his way out of the room, he wasn't engaging in any of the conversation so hopefully nobody would notice the fact that he left. As he left the Yard he hailed a cabbie. It was half past eight so if Tom really wanted to get drunk he could be at a bar right now. As Sherlock hailed another taxi he gave the address that he received off his phone for 'The Bull'. It wasn't more than five minutes later they pulled up to 'The Bull'.

The outside of the bar had neon lights with every different color with two tables on the outside with people wearing very discriminative clothing. Sherlock nodded away the thought and entered the pub when he was welcomed with loud music and there was a faint smell of- What was it? Marijuana. People smoking in the bathroom, typical.

It took a Sherlock a whole of two seconds to find Tom in the crowd. His eyes narrowed as he got closer, someone was with him. Not someone. A girl. Another girl who wasn't _his _fiance.

Sherlock ordered something from the bar and went over to Tom. "Hey," Sherlock said as he sat across the table from him. Actually, it wasn't just one girl. There were two. One on his lap and one next to him (which he had his arm around her waist) and right then Sherlock knew exactly what he wanted to do.

"Hey man," Tom's curls lazily flopping up and down with every word he spoke. "Do you want a girl?"

Sherlock's lips curled up in a snarl. "No," he nearly growled. "Can I speak with you? Privately."

"Yeah, sure." Tom said as he gave a kiss to both of the girls before lifting one of them off of his lap and planting a deep kiss on her lips before following Sherlock out of the bar.

"You have a fiancee yet you are kissing other girls?" Sherlock asked once they got out earshot of the blaring music. "I'm not the best person to talk to for relationship advice, but isn't that considered cheating?"

"How did you know I had a fiancee?"

"Oh! Because if you look down at your ring finger you can see that it has been worn, which means you wear it around her, but when you go out you clearly take it off, but if you look closely you can tell the ring is actually in your pocket. So you clearly love your fiancee but you just can't stay loyal."

Tom's eyes narrowed as he threw a lazy punch towards Sherlock, without even blinking an eye Sherlock grabbed his fist and twisted it, hearing a sickening _crack!_ "What the fuck!" Tom screamed as he grabbed his fist.

"Oh? You thinking cheating on your fiancee is a great idea, don't you? Well, I guess you haven't seen how horrible she looks, because of you," Sherlock spat as he threw his drink and the liquid landed on his chest and partly on his pants.

"What the bloody hell!?" Tom hissed as he looked down at his shirt and started rubbing his shirt.

Before he even noticed it Sherlock launched his fist right square into Tom's nose. "You think you can just push Molly Hooper around and everything will just be fine? Well, let me tell you something." Sherlock brought his fist into his face again, feeling blood splatter against face. _Man, this feels good._ Sherlock thought to himself as he planted another punch against his face. He could feel Tom going limp against his fist and he grabbed the hem of his shirt to keep him up. "Oh, you can't handle this? Well that's bad because this is what Molly has to go through every _bloody _day with you." Sherlock backed him up against the brick wall and kept planting punches on his nose, and his chin and just anywhere his fist led.

"This one is for Molly," Sherlock hissed as he punched him in the throat. "This is for hurting her," punching him square in the stomach. He kept repeating the words over and over feeling like he needed to bring justice to this man who had hurt Molly, leaving scars on her that will possibly never leave her.

Sherlock let Tom go and watched him fall to the ground. As he took a step back he admired his handiwork. Noticing the fact that his nose was broken, along with his wrist. He admired the blood splattered walls. This was his handiwork.

He felt great about this, hurting the person who had hurt Molly. _His _Molly. _His _pathologist.

"Have fun rotting in prison you bastard," Sherlock hissed as he kicked his stomach one last time before making his way to Baker Street.

* * *

_Alright! Wasn't that fun! Anyway, with band camp coming up I will try and update as soon as I can. It may be a few days but it may be a few weeks. Comment and favorite and do whatever and thanks for reading!_


	6. Chapter 6

_Finally! A new chapter! I've had this idea in awhile, but putting this into words was harder than it looks. So yeah, sorry for the late reply but after next week I should be posting pretty frequently_

* * *

"I'll be back tomorrow morning. Okay, Molly?" John had asked her, of course she had no say in the matter. He had to get back to his pregnant wife. Mary was probably getting jealous by now, John had been spending most of his time with Molly. But she enjoyed his company, she needed someone who she could talk to and not over react. "If you need anything I'll have my phone on, alright?" He pressed a light kiss on her forehead and he was gone, and she was alone with Sherlock.

Molly watched as John exited the flat and looked over at Sherlock who had his eyes closed and a steeple with his fingers under his chin. She had almost gotten comfortable with his presence, her heart didn't stutter when they were in the same room and it was almost as if she had gotten over her little 'crush' she had on him.

"Tom," he had muttered a few minutes after of silence and Molly jerked her head up and narrowed her eyes toward Sherlock.

"What about Tom?"

"There's something I need to tell you, Molly." Sherlock said as he leaned forward and placed his hands on his knees. He noticed how her pupils dilated and a part of him wanted to go over to her and hug her, but figured that wasn't the best idea. "Tom got hurt."

"Oh my God. Is he okay?" Molly had felt her heart speed up and she jumped up from the couch and started pacing the floor. "Sherlock, please tell me he is okay."

Sherlock carefully watched her, noticing how much she cared for the man who put her through hell for the past five months. Sherlock abruptly stood up in front of her and placed his hands on her shoulders and he could feel her flinch under him. "I did it. I broke his nose and wrist and quite frankly I'm really glad I did."

Molly's eyes widened in terror. She thought she had gotten from the man that had hurt her, but maybe she was wrong. "Sh-Sherlock.. I-I.." Where was she going with this? Did she want to admit that she was scared of him too? Molly shook her head and took a small step back, but his grip was still on her shoulders.

His grip tightened on her shoulder out of instinct and he noticed her flinch and he immediately brought his hands up realizing what he did. "Molly, did I hurt you?" Was that actual concern in his voice? He actually cared for Molly and now he was turning into the monster that hurt her.

"N-No, I-I'm fine." Molly looked down to the floor and could feel her lip quiver. She knew Sherlock didn't mean to hurt her, but she couldn't stop the tears as she took a few careful steps away from him.

"Molly. I'm sorry." He reached out to touch her but immediately retreated when she jumped just at the small movement he made. He had tried so hard to have her feel safe again, and now he had just ruined that. "Molly."

"Sh-Sherlock, i-it's fine. I'm fine. I.. I'm just going to go to bed." And with that she disappeared into his bedroom.

"Fuck." Was all Sherlock said as he grabbed a pillow and threw it against the couch. He had to tell her about Tom. But was it too soon now? He had just brought her up from what Tom had done to her and now she brought her back down. Sherlock took a deep breath, trying to calm himself and figure out what he was supposed to say to her.

After a few minutes of silence Sherlock ruffled his hands through his hair and slowly made his way to his room. He carefully tapped on the door a few times before entering. There he saw Molly under his covers and he could feel his heart break. He did this. He had hurt her. He had broke her just like her bastard fiancé did.

"Molly," Sherlock warned as he slowly made his way over to the lump in his bed and he carefully placed a hand on her back, gently rubbing circles. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

Molly flinched under his touch and shook her head. "Sh-Sherlock, p-please don't touch me." She hated this. She was back in the whole she thought she had just gotten out of and now she needed John. Molly took a deep breath and brought the blankets closer to her and pulled them over her head.

Sherlock retreated his hand and awkwardly patted the area next to him. Crying was not his area, but he needed to make things right. "Molly, I'm so sorry." What was he supposed to do? John would be better in this area, but he had to fix this himself. "I didn't mean to. I know you know that, I am so sorry."

"I-It's fine, Sh-Sherlock. Really." Well, she was lying. It was pretty obvious, but what else was she supposed to do? Molly took her head from under the covers and looked over to Sherlock and gave a weary smile.

"Molly." God. What had he done? He had done so much to help her and now he said a few things and brought her back done. "Hey, listen. How about I make dinner?" It was a start, right? Even though he couldn't cook it was worth a shot and try to make her feel better.

"I… I'm not hungry." She hadn't eaten in awhile but she had gotten accustomed to it. Tom wanted her skinnier which she had been trying to do for the wedding and maybe had gotten a little overboard on losing weight? Molly shook her head. It wasn't _that_ bad, but like Sherlock had mentioned earlier she had lost almost lost 23 pounds.

"Molly, eat something, please?" Did he really beg? Was he begging for Molly Hooper? Of course he was. He needed her to gain her weight back. He needed Molly back.

"I… I guess." Molly slowly threw the blankets away from her and winced as she pulled herself up to a sitting position. Molly wiped a few stray tears away and put on a fake smile. She needed to act like she was happy in front of Sherlock even though he could clearly tell when she was lying.

Sherlock offered her a smile in return as he got off the bed and outstretched his hand for her which she gladly took. "What would you like to eat?" He asked. But then it hit him. He can't cook, usually if he was ever hungry he would order take out. This should be interesting.

"I don't know. Whatever you can cook?" Molly looked up at him, almost forgetting about the small fight they had had. Once they had gotten into the kitchen Sherlock pulled the chair out for her and she could feel her cheeks brighten as she sad down and looked down at the table.

"I'll be right back. I have to get some items from Mrs. Hudson that I'm missing." Sherlock smiled and very carefully kissed the top of her head. "I'll be right back." Sherlock muttered into her hair as he disappeared out of the flat and quickly ended up at Mrs. Hudson's flat.

He pounded the door repeatedly until the old woman answered the door. "Sherlock," she whined while she was dressed in her night gown and her hair soaking wet.

"Mrs. Hudson. This is an emergency."

...

Ten minutes later Molly was pacing the kitchen wondering what was taking Sherlock so long. Usually it would take him only a few seconds to get something but it has taken him over ten minutes now.

"That's it," she mumbled to herself as she headed toward the door but it quickly opened and there was Sherlock with a hand full of noodles and a jar of spaghetti sauce. "Sherlock, what are you doing?" Molly asked as she took a few steps back and watched as Sherlock took a pot out of a cabinet and put it on the stove and threw the pasta in the pot.

"I'm making dinner." He simply said as he grabbed two plates from another cabinet and placed them on the table. "You like wine, right?" Sherlock asked and before she could answer he grabbed two wine glasses and some red wine and poured some wine in both of the glasses.

"Sher-"

"Don't start," he said simply as he guided her to a chair and sat her down. "I don't want you to worry about tonight."

Molly eyed the pot and then gave a smile up at Sherlock. "You might want to check on the pasta." Molly had a smug smile on her face as she watched Sherlock empty the pot of noodles onto a plate.

"What did I do wrong?" He asked himself as he scratched the back of his head and looked at the stale noodles, sticking straight up like they had before he put them in the pot.

"You might have want to put some water in the pot before you put it on the oven," Molly laughed as she went over and looked at the pathetic noodles. "Do you really not know how to cook?"

"I don't really need to know how to cook to live. Mrs. Hudson is right under me and if anything I can eat out." Sherlock stated as he looked at his noodles and gave a sigh as he looked down at Molly. "Molly, I'm so sorry. I was trying to make a nice night and I ruined it with these stupid noodles." He muttered as he took the trash can from under the sink and dumped the noodles in them.

"Sherlock, I have an idea." Molly watched as he dumped the pathetic straight noodles into the trash can which she couldn't help but laugh at.

"Molly, you are not cooking."

"I wasn't going to say that! What if we ordered take out?"

...

Ten minutes later Molly was on the couch, cuddling into Sherlock with her red wine when the doorbell rang and Sherlock jumped off of the couch, getting the pizza from the delivery guy and then bringing it back to the couch where he and Molly lay.

A few minutes later half the pizza was gone, Molly had ate more than she had in awhile and she could feel her stomach growling in anger. "I haven't ate that much in awhile," she looked over at Sherlock and grabbed her red wine and took a small sip.

"Well, I'm glad you are eating again. You need to eat." He never realized how protective of her he was.

"Yeah," Molly muttered as she laid her head on his and could feel her eyes droop.

"Molly?" Sherlock asked as he noticed how fast she was falling asleep. She had been up for awhile so he understood why she was falling asleep so easily. Sherlock grabbed the red wine out of her hand and placed in on the coffee table as he slipped one hand under her knees and another on her back.

A groan rose from the back of Molly's throat and Sherlock laughed as he very slowly took her to his bedroom and very gently placed her on his bed.

"Have a good night, Molly Hooper." Sherlock whispered as he placed a kiss on her forehead.

"Wait," the squeaky voice he loved so much urged. "S-Stay with me." That brought a smile to Sherlock's face as he quickly obliged and laid down on the other side of Molly and pulled the covers over both of them.

"I'm right here Molly." Sherlock whispered as he started running his fingers through her hair before she fell asleep.

* * *

_Just a reminder that I have band camp all of next week and I'm going to try and write as much as possible in the few hour break that I get, so if I don't get to update next week don't hate me it isn't my fault! Anyway, thanks for reading and this chapter was written in kind of a rush so if you see something wrong don't hesitate to comfront me_


	7. Chapter 7

_Hey guys. Sorry it took me so long to upload this chapter I was at band camp for a whole week and I also haven't been feeling the best so that's why it took so long for this to come because I was focusing on getting better before I wrote this. Anyway, the first section of this chapter is a little triggery so be warned! Happy reading!_

* * *

_"Come on, it's not that bad." His evil eyes were piercing into hers as he laid on top of her, controlling her actions like always. _

_"Tom, I don't want to do this." This always seemed like a one sided conversation. But then again- wasn't that their relationship? He would never listen to her, and he would be trying to control her every second._

_"Come on, Mols. It's not going to hurt." This was a different side of Tom she hadn't really seen since they first dated. It was scary really, the caring side of Tom only came out when he wanted to have sex._

_"I don't want to." She simply said as she put her hands on his bare chest, trying to get some distance. _

_"Oh, Molly." A moan escaped from the back of his throat which made the hairs on her arms stand up. _

_"Tom." Was all she could say before she felt a warmth making a way inside of her that she had felt way too many times and wished she hadn't. "No! Stop!"_

"_Molly! Wake up!" _

_"No! Get off of me!"_

_"Molly!"_

Before she realized it Molly's eyes flashed open and Sherlock was sitting right next to with a hand on her shoulder, clearly trying to wake her up.

"God, Sherlock. I'm so sorry." Tears were strolling down her face as she wrapped her arms around Sherlock's neck.

"Sh, don't be sorry, Molly." Sherlock was careful not to wrap his arms around her, not sure how she would react. "It's okay." Being gentle Sherlock started combing his fingers through her hair.

Before she knew it she could feel herself losing control, crying even though she didn't mean to. "It was a nightmare," she mumbled more to herself than to Sherlock.

They sat like that her head on his shoulder and him trying to calm her down while combing his fingers through her hair. It seemed like they could be like that forever and neither of them would care.

Molly was the one that broke the embrace. Slowly she broke apart and looked up at Sherlock with puffy eyes. "It was a dumb dream," her voice broke as she wiped away some stray tears.

"It was a nightmare, Molly." Sherlock corrected her as got up from the bed and outstretched his hand. "I made some breakfast, would you like some?"

"S-Sure," Molly whispered as she took his hand and together they made it to the kitchen. On the table sat two plates with burnt toast and various jams and jellies.

Sherlock let go of her hand and then grabbed a chair and pulled it out for her which Molly took gratefully. "What would you like to drink?" Sherlock asked as he opened up the fridge.

"Do you have orange juice?" Molly asked as she grabbed a knife and spread some apple butter jelly on her burnt toast. Molly laughed as the crunchy and charcoal texture tickled her tastebuds as she grabbed the orange juice that Sherlock had just put down and took and gulped half of it down.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow and tried his hardest to hold back some comments. "Don't like the toast?" He asked as gave a short laugh and took a sip of his coffee.

"Can you really not cook?" Molly asked, taking a smaller bite of the toast this time.

"I never thought it was really that important. Cooking really isn't my area, when I have a case I don't really eat and when I do eat it's mostly take out."

"I'll teach you sometime." Molly said simply as she ate the rest of the charcoal tasting toast as she gulped down the rest of the orange juice she looked over at Sherlock and sighed. "I… I think it's time that I go back home."

Sherlock froze with the cup right next to his lips, and very slowly put it back down on the table. "Molly, I think it's too soon. I mean, you just woke up from a nightmare."

"I'm going to wake up from nightmares years from now, Sherlock. This isn't going to go away one night."

"Let's make a deal," This was one of the first times Sherlock Holmes had ever made a deal with anyone. "The court date is in a week and a half. After Tom is sentenced you can move back home, is that okay?"

Molly thought about it for a second. Could she really live a week in a half with Sherlock? It's only been a few days and they had already gotten into a fight, but he was also really caring towards her. Everyone was. Which was really surprising and that was one of the reasons she wanted to go back home, she didn't like all the attention. "Can I go back to the morgue before that?"

"Molly, working is not the best idea right now. You need time to rest and get your life back to normal. You need to eat and get back into your regular routine."

"But going to the morgue is in my regular routine." She loved the morgue, she loved being around dead people because they could never hurt her. Even when she was little she was infatuated with dead things which made her Mother scared, but she eventually shook it off.

"Molly. We are not going to talk about this okay. You are staying here until the hearing."

Molly bit her lip, wanting to fight back part of her wanted to and the other part of her was scared that she was going to be hit, but being with Sherlock she knew that wouldn't happen, but still there was that little doubt in her head. "Do you think he'll be convicted?"

"He better be." Sherlock grabbed her plate and empty glass and put them in the sink to be washed later. "I don't understand why he wouldn't be, the evidence is all there." He said as he motioned to Molly.

"I'm going to be used as evidence?"

"Sort of," Sherlock said as he wiped off his hands and leaned against the counter. "They are going to call you to the stand and you tell them everything. The beatings, the…" He didn't want to say it, but he had to. "The assault. Anything you can think of, you'll show them your bruises and we'll take some pictures so the jury can see them too. If we show and tell them everything I don't see why he wouldn't be convicted."

Molly nodded and put her hands on the table and fumbled with them slightly. "Will you be there?" Molly asked as she looked into Sherlock's eyes.

"I can't be part of the jury. But I will be watching. You need anything you can look at me."

Molly nodded as she slowly stood up, the injuries she had were getting better, but every once in awhile it would hurt certain things.

Molly noticed that when she winced Sherlock took a protective step towards her. "Are you okay?" He asked as he was soon by her side, helping her into the living room.

"I'm fine," Molly nodded his hand away as she gripped the corner of the table for balance. Her whole body hurt for some reason.

"Molly, I'm not going to touch you if you don't want me to but you are in a lot of pain. It's internal. Possibly digestive problems. Since you haven't eaten it'll hurt if you even eat a little."

"Stop deducing me, Sherlock." Molly hissed, feeling her palm dig its way into the edge of table and drawing blood.

"Molly, can I touch you?" Molly asked as he outstretched a hand.

Molly gave a small nod and Sherlock carefully put a hand around her waist and another hand under her knees.

Slowly Sherlock made his way to the couch with Molly in his hands and she would whine every once in awhile as she put a lazy hand over her stomach. First, he laid Molly down on the couch, and made enough room for him to sit down next to her.

"Your metabolism is all messed up, eating this much in such a short period is hurting you."

"Shut up, Sherlock." Molly moaned and clutched her stomach. In one swift moment Molly ran to the bathroom leaving Sherlock alone on the couch. It wasn't soon after he heard choking noises coming from the bathroom.

Quickly Sherlock made his way to the bathroom and saw Molly hunched over the toilet and puking up what she just ate. "It's okay, Molly." Sherlock whispered as he pulled her hair back and soothingly rubbed her back. "Next time I won't force you to eat."

"Next time I'm cooking." Molly laughed as she heaved again. Molly wiped her face with her arm and looked over at Sherlock. "I'm not saying your cooking is horrible, but it is pretty awful."

Sherlock gave a small laugh as he helped her stand up. "How about you take a bath. Clean yourself up, I want you to be healthy while you are staying here."

Molly gave a small nod as she started running the water and looked over at Sherlock. "Sherlock," Molly motioned over to the door.

"Do you uh.. Need help?" Sherlock noticed how Molly's cheeks turned bright red and she shook her head. "Oh-Okay. I'll be in the living room if you need anything."

As he hurried out of the bathroom he closed the door behind him and paused when he saw John in the living room smiling like a crazy man.

"Shut up," Sherlock growled as he sat on his chair and looked over at John who was still smiling. "What?"

"You care about her."

"Of course I care about her," he nearly hissed as looked over at the bathroom door. "I don't want anyone to hurt her."

"But you," John added and Sherlock immediately narrowed his eyes at him.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh come on, Sherlock. All the times you used her at the morgue, having her fetch coffee for you, telling her that her lips are too small. You set her up for this."

Sherlock opened his mouth and then it hit him. He was. He was the one that was abusing her before Tom had ever laid a finger on her. He used her, and he hadn't realized it until someone besides him was hurting her. "I didn't mean to."

"I know you didn't, and I think she knows you didn't mean to either. You just need to be more careful around her."

"I'll try." Sherlock never thought he would change the person he was for someone. But Molly Hooper was that exception.


	8. Chapter 8

_I finally updated! Sorry for the long wait, I was sick and then school started and then I was sick again and then I have to do college crap and figure out what I want to do with my life so that was that. So I'm sorry if this chapter isn't that good. I have had this idea in my head since the beginning of the story and I needed to put it down, and I wanted to update sooner than later, and yeah. So, enjoy this chapter and tell me what you think!_

There comes a time in everyone's life where they dread that one day. Usually it's dying, or your parents dying, or finding out you have cancer. Not for Molly Hooper.

The past two weeks were a drag, slowly coming to that one day. The day where she had to stand in front of Tom and a room full of strangers and tell them in detail what he had done to her repeatedly for the past six months.

Even now, laying in Sherlock's bed, having no motivation to get up she could feel her stomach churn. For a good few seconds she thought if it was worth it to actually get up. As she relished in the silence she let her imagination run free. Her mind drifted to the first time she met Sherlock in the morgue.

_"You're wrong." A voice she didn't recognize echoed through the morgue. Molly's head immediately popped up as she stared at the slim figure that lingered in the doorway. _

_"I'm not wrong," she muttered, becoming slightly unconfident as she stared at the handsome figure who looked around the morgue. "I can't be wrong. I've ran this test a dozen times, it can't be wrong."_

_"It's obvious," the tall figure strode over to her "Notice the bruising on the lower hips? It's obviously postmortem. You do know what postmortem is right?"'_

_"Who do you think you are?" Molly asked as she looked down at the body. "And why do you think it's postmortem? Just because there is bruising doesn't mean it happened after-"_

"These bruises," _he pointed at the hip interrupting Molly._ _"Notice how they are lighter than the bruising up here." He pointed to the woman's chest with the bruising a dark blue and purple color. "These are a lot darker than the ones on her hip, clearly the marks happened postmortem. You guess it was domestic abuse, right?" _

_Molly let out a sigh as she looked up at the tall man. "Yes," she looked back down at the ugly colored floor._

_"Why did they even let you in the morgue? You should not be qualified to be around dead people if you don't know what clearly the result of a car crash and you don't know what postmortem is."_

_Molly was holding back tears as she looked up at the man, only this time the face was different, it wasn't the soft face of a man who just says hurtful things without meaning to, no. This face was different. The eyes were dark with all means of hurt. _

_Without thinking Molly took a step back and immediately she felt rough hands rest on her hips. _

_"Oh sweetie, where do you think you're going?" The soft undertone voice muttered as Tom pulled her closer. _

_Molly rested her hands on top of his and let her fingernails dig into his skin and before she could think she could feel her body hit the wall with a great force as she slumped to the ground._

_"You think you are better than me?" Tom towered over her as Molly brings her knees up to her chest._

_"I-I'm sorry -" Molly whimpered._

"Hey."

Molly's eyes flashed oped when she realized that the voice wasn't Tom's. She looked around before giving a sigh of relief. "S-Sorry."

"Molly, don't apologize." It was Sherlock, his curly hair was wet and he held a plastic bag in one of his hands. "I shouldn't have left you alone, I thought you were asleep."

"I-I can be left alone, it uh, it was just a nightmare."

"Molly, this is the third time in two nights that you've woken up screaming. I want what is best for you."

Molly ran her fingers through her long hair and looked down at the bag Sherlock was holding. "What do you have there?" She asked, trying to change the subject.

Sherlock put the bag down on the coffee table in front of her and pulled out an even smaller bag. "I figured you were getting tired of my cooking so I got you a cinnamon roll from down the street. Also," he dug his hand back into the bag and pulled out a box of tea bags. "We were out of coffee, and I know you like tea more than coffee, so I got some green tea."

Before long, Sherlock was back in the kitchen putting a kettle on the oven. "Today is the day, Molly." She heard Sherlock say from the kitchen. "The day where this son of a bitch will never be able to touch you again."

. . .

It really wasn't that bad staying with Sherlock. Sure, he was a slob, but he really cared for Molly and did everything he could to make her safe. Today was different. She couldn't hide her bruises from Sherlock and she had to tell a room full of strangers what Tom had done to her.

Molly was laying in Sherlock's bed with the blanket over her head. She had been waiting for this day for who knows how long, and now, she didn't even want to leave the flat.

There was a soft knock at the door which made Molly jump slightly. "C-Come in."

"Molly," it was John's voice, she felt the bed dip down with his weight suddenly on the bed. "I know you are scared, but listen to me. There is no way he can win this. You have to remember that."

Those words sunk in and you know, he was right. He had beaten Molly for far too long and it was time she did something about it and not just sit around and mope all day.

"B-But what if he's found not guilty?" Molly asked, bringing her head up from under the blanket.

"Sherlock and I will do everything to prove that he is."

. . .

They had been waiting in the lobby for the last thirty minutes. Molly had made her claim and showed her bruises all the while describing in detail what she had gone through. Luckily John was with her because in the middle of her claim Sherlock had stormed out of the room.

"You know Sherlock, Molly. It probably wasn't anything personal." John had said the minute they left the courtroom so the jury could make their decision. John and Molly hadn't really talked since then, although Molly was keeping a strong hold of John's hand.

"What do you think is taking them so long?" Molly finally asked as she resisted the temptation to get up and storm into the courtroom.

"They all have to make a unanimous decision. So there is probably that one bloke who is trying to persuade everyone. It'll be fine, Molly. All will be fine."

Another fifteen minutes had gone by before the courtroom doors had opened and they were told to come in.

As both Molly and John sat down Molly could feel her fingernails digging into John's skin, something hat she had picked up quite recently. "Sorry," she quickly mumbled not knowing if she had hurt him or not.

"Has the jury reached a verdict?" The gray haired judged asked while he sat back in his chair, waiting for the answer.

A large female with long read hair stood up and cleared her throat as she looked down at the paper before her. "The jury has decided that Thomas Birch is not guilty."

Those words rang through Molly's ears as she looked over at the man who had hurt her so much as the police officers slowly dug into his pants to find the keys to release Tom.


End file.
